


Ownership

by robinasnyder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 10:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12529236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinasnyder/pseuds/robinasnyder
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi negotiates a deal to help secure the Republic transportation access which will benefit the war, but he does his job too well. The Chief gifts him with a Thrall and binds them together in a ceremony that Obi-Wan doesn't spend a lot of time concentrating on. It's bad enough him being gifted an actual human being, but he can barely keep his temper in check when he realizes the man in question is Force Sensitive, and was supposed to be given to the Jedi Temple but was instead sold as a child.





	Ownership

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, 
> 
> Please note that this story has been WIP sitting on my computer for a while. I wanted to write and homage to the old boys in chains fics, but to kind of flip it on its head. This has sat for months unchanged, and I'm not certain I'll ever get around to adding the ending I really want. So this sort of has a non-ending. I hope to add another couple of chapters one day, but for now I'm marking this as complete. 
> 
> Rated for the hopeful future chapters and general subject matter.
> 
> Please enjoy

Obi-Wan wanted to run through every bit of Huttese profanity that Anakin had ever taught him. He could never think of a time when he’d been more fucked in his life. That included finding out his that Master, Yan Dooku, had turned to the Dark Side. Or the time he’d had to singlehanded get an entire Naboo delegation and a dangerously powerful Force sensitive boy off a planet that Obi-Wan still mentally referred to as the Sand Hell planet. That included having to take his trials early because his Master basically got tired of him. It included having to take a grieving nine year old boy as his Padawan to keep him safe and protected. And that included having to fight a Sith alone because the Council saw fit not to send him any backup even though they knew that he was saying there was a Sith involved.

They were in the middle of a war, and The Negotiator had been needed to win a neutral planet to the side of the Republic. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a Republic planet, but a planet in the Outer Rim that was neither a Republic planet, nor affiliated with the Hutts. They just happened to be advantageously placed for the war. And to be fair, Obi-Wan had negotiated a brilliant treaty, both for the use of the planet’s travel space and for the planet itself, which had been in an on-again-off again civil war for centuries. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t completely certain that the treaty he’d worked out to stop the fighting would last too long, but for a little while, there would be peace. And it was his understanding that Obi-Wan even attempting to help would be well received for generations. It put the Jedi and the Republic in a great place. 

But the planet had always been uninterested in joining the Republic. The main reason was that their economy was based on slaves. Obi-Wan was so grateful he’d been sent alone, without Anakin especially, since Obi-Wan hadn’t even seen such open use and abuse of slaves when they were on Tatooine. 

And it was also a terrible insult on their planet to turn down a gift. Which was how Obi-Wan ended up with a slave on his ship. 

He’d sent the man to rest while Obi-Wan got them off the planet and out of the system. He kept playing the night before in his head. During a Fire Side Meeting, an important meeting and celebration after negotiation, which could last days (and had), the Chief had said a word that Obi-Wan didn’t know and which his protocol droid struggled to translate. It hardly would have mattered except to give Obi-Wan a heads up. He half wished he’d borrowed C3P0 from Senator Amidala. He knew more languages and customs than any droid Obi-Wan had ever seen. 

But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The word roughly translated to ‘Thrall’.

The Chief had hummed with pleasure was they brought Obi-Wan his gift. The man was tall, a human who dwarfed Obi-Wan by four inches. And he was broader than Obi-Wan, was long brown hair which had grey and white hairs throughout. The same hair coloring followed in the man’s beard and across his chest. Obi-Wan was certain it went lower as well, but blessedly the man they’d brought him hadn’t been naked, though the loin cloth he wore, held around his hips by a gold belt, left little to Obi-Wan excellent imagination. Obi-Wan had seen this particular outfit on other slaves. It was made for easy access, because all it would take was brushing aside the long strips of material. They gave merely the illusion of covering, since a good strong breeze would end up showing everyone the man’s genitals. 

The man was older than Obi-Wan, by probably twenty years, Obi-Wan would guess. And he’d been delivered to Obi-Wan with a gold collar and golden chains connected to the braces around his wrists and ankles. 

The second Obi-Wan had gotten a good look at the man he’d felt nothing but panic. And then the man and smiled at him. It was a sharp smile, one that made Obi-Wan certain the man could eat him alive, but the look in the man’s eyes spoke to a great exhaustion and pain.

Obi-Wan’s heart had gone out to the man, and it would have been too insulting to return him. So he allowed the Chief to perform the gifting ceremony and he took the man back to his tent. 

The man had tried instantly to put his hands on Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan caught his hands by the braces, being careful not to touch him. 

“I’m tired,” Obi-Wan said. “I would like to sleep. We’re leaving early in the morning. My cot isn’t too big, but I’m certain we can both fit.” 

The man had blinked at him slowly and then nodded. He’d put his wrists together and allowed Obi-Wan to remove the chains. During the ceremony, it had been keyed to Obi-Wan’s DNA. He merely brushed his fingers over the correct spot and the chains and the braces unlocked. Both of them had allowed the gaudy binders to fall to the ground around them. 

Obi-Wan had reached for the collar, but the man caught his hand. 

“This does not come off,” the man said, wariness in his eyes. 

“Okay,” Obi-Wan said, trying to be soothing.

He moved away and pulled off his boots. The man dusted off his feet, since he hadn’t been provided shoes. The man watched him while Obi-Wan stretched out, fully clothed but for his boots. Then he wrapped himself around Obi-Wan. It was a snug fit on the cot, and being held was the only way for two tall men to fit. Obi-Wan kept his discomfort to himself and did his best to sleep. 

He hadn’t been lying about the early departure. He’d been meant to rendezvous with the Negotiator and head to another conflict, but Obi-Wan called in the change of plans as soon as they were on the ship. 

Obi-Wan had needed to replace the chains and binders in the morning, but the man didn’t argue, merely watched him. Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to help but feel judged under the cool but intelligent gaze. Walking the man to the ship had been a lesson in hiding embarrassment. As much as he wanted to scream that he would never use another sentient like that, he had to keep his tongue to himself.

His ship had been filled with other gifts that Obi-Wan had wanted to throw off the ship, but he hoped that at least some of it would be clothes for his unintended guest, so he didn’t argue. 

He did remove the chains and binders as soon as the shuttle door was shut. “Sleeping quarters are through there. You can wash up and rest. I need to get the ship out of the atmosphere and on course,” he’d said. 

The man had mere inclined his head, though he still watched Obi-Wan with curious eyes which took all of Obi-Wan’s self-control not to shiver under. 

And that was how he’d gotten there, cursing under his breath as he headed back to Coruscant. Anakin would know what to do with the man, Obi-Wan hoped. And if not, someone on the Council must know. 

Obi-Wan heard the quiet swish of the door. He turned autopilot on and let out a breath before he turned to face the man. He meant to say something to him, but it died when Obi-Wan saw him. He was still in the loin cloth, but he was now damp all over. The hairs on his chest and face still had a bit of water clinging to it, and he’d pulled his hair back. He looked like sex on legs and Obi-Wan was going to have a problem if the man didn’t find real pants soon. 

“I- I thought you would be resting,” Obi-Wan said. 

“I prepared myself for you, Master,” the man said. Obi-Wan did shiver. The man had such a glorious voice. There was a purr under the accent, and Obi-Wan was well aware of just how fucked he was. 

“You don’t have to call me Master,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Even the Chief called you Master,” the man pointed out. 

“True, but this is because I have Mastery as a Jedi,” Obi-Wan explained. The man gave him a blank look and Obi-Wan sighed. “How about Master Kenobi?” That wouldn’t be improper.

“Yes, Master Kenobi,” the man rumbled. Obi-Wan shivered again and the man smirked. 

“Sith,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Um, I mean, what’s your name?” 

“Qui-Gon,” the man said. That gave Obi-Wan pause. 

“That’s a core world name,” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

“Yes, Master Kenobi,” the man said. He walked closer. He moved slowly, but with the way his muscles moved and his pace, Obi-Wan felt very much like stalked prey. 

“Were you born on a Core planet?” 

The man paused a moment, cocking his head to one side. “Possibly.” 

Great! Kidnapping added to everything else. 

“But you don’t know,” Obi-Wan said. 

“It has been a long time, Master Kenobi,” Qui-Gon said. 

“I see,” Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon began to approach him again. Obi-Wan stood quickly, worried the other man would sit in his lap if he was still seated by the time Qui-Gon crossed the short distance between them. Obi-Wan also put his hands up, trying to keep Qui-Gon’s from getting too close. 

Qui-Gon paused again. He looked perplexed. Perplexed was possibly better than sultry. Or it would have been if Qui-Gon didn’t look so damn adorable with that expression on his face. 

“Did they send clothes for you?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“It would be improper for them to not,” Qui-Gon said. “I am rather large, and it’s an imposition to clothe me.” 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be… um, please tell me you have something more covering than what you’re currently wearing?” Obi-Wan asked, glancing only down enough to see the gold resting on the man’s hips before his gaze shot back up. 

“Yes,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Would you mind changing, then? Something… covering and as close to what I’m wearing as possible?” 

“You do not want me?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Not at the moment,” Obi-Wan said. He worried the man would think Obi-Wan would sell him if he did not want him. That had been a problem with Anakin, even after the chip had been removed. “Would you like the collar removed now?” 

Qui-Gon gave him a strange look. “It cannot be removed, Master Kenobi.” 

“As a mark of ownership?” Obi-Wan asked, hearing his own voice sound strained. 

Qui-Gon gave him a look that was something like pity and something like he thought Obi-Wan was an idiot. He turned and lifted his hair. 

“I assume you have only dealt with Hutt slaves. Our control chips are not hidden. They all connect at the top of the spine,” Qui-Gon said. 

Obi-Wan approached, equal parts fascinated and horrified. As he got closer he realized what Qui-Gon meant. A portion of the collar was fused into Qui-Gon’s spine. It had been that way for a long time, as the skin had grown over it.

A litany of huttese filth filled Obi-Wan’s mind. He had to release it to the Force or risk turning the ship around and crash landing it on the Chief’s head.

“I see,” Obi-Wan said weakly. 

Qui-Gon dropped his hair. They were standing close enough that it smacked into Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan rubbed his nose, itchy from suddenly having a snoot full of hair, and stepped away. 

“If you tried to remove it the way you did the braces and chains, it would kill me,” Qui-Gon explained. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t even speak for a moment. He had almost done that the night before. Unknowingly, he’d come close to killing the man. 

“I didn’t know,” Obi-Wan could tell. 

“I was certain,” Qui-Gon said. He turned back around and met Obi-Wan’s gaze. “You have never owned anyone before.” 

“No,” Obi-Wan said. “I haven’t. Am I that obvious?” 

“If I met the gaze of my last Master he would punish me,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said like it was simple and not gut wrenching. “Well, I like your eyes. I don’t mind getting to see them. And I’m pretty sure even if you dropped your eyes, our gazes would still meet.” He offered a little smile which caused Qui-Gon to snort. 

“Do you always flirt with your slaves?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Ah, but you said yourself that I have never had one,” Obi-Wan pointed out. Qui-Gon’s lips twitched and Obi-Wan felt satisfied. It wasn’t a smile, but almost. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been planned. 

“Yes, Master Kenobi,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Yes… please go rest. I can see you are tired. I need to work on our course home,” Obi-Wan explained. “There are ration bars and tea if you’re hungry or thirsty. You passed the kitchenette.” 

“I saw,” Qui-Gon said. “And you do not need me?” 

“Not right now,” Obi-Wan said. “Rest.” 

“Yes, Master Kenobi,” he said. He turned away and left. Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief once Qui-Gon was gone. How was he going to survive the trip home? 

* * *

Qui-Gon had no idea what his new Master wanted. And for a slave, that was a very large problem to have. He had believed his new Master when he’d told him he was tired and wanted to sleep. The Fire Side celebrations lasted an eternity, even for the freemen who were celebrating. Normally, Qui-Gon would have been working and servicing and being used, but he’d been set aside days in advance when the Chief realized they needed a gift for the Negotiator. (And how funny was it that they said it like the man’s title? Although Qui-Gon was impressed with what little he heard about what the man accomplished with the stubborn people of this planet.)

Qui-Gon was fairly certain he wasn’t a proper gift for a man who had accomplished so much. He was well used, and old. At least old by the standard of slaves used for sex. And he was known for being rowdy. Still, when he looked at his new Master, Qui-Gon was certain the man was powerful enough that he could control Qui-Gon if he so chose. 

His new Master had taken off his binds and held him close in sleep. And the man had fallen asleep fairly easily. Qui-Gon knew because he waited, just in case. He didn’t want to be caught unaware by a stranger. But his Master fell asleep quickly and Qui-Gon felt safe to sleep. In the morning the man helped him put the binds back on. Qui-Gon could feel that it was merely to make the Clan happy and that they wouldn’t stay on him long. 

Qui-Gon trusted those feelings. They were always accurate and it had saved him a lot of pain and heartache over his life. 

His new Master had put his pack together, and then guided Qui-Gon to the ship. There he had removed he binds and left Qui-Gon alone in the bedroom. He’d been told to rest, but when his Master suggested a shower, Qui-Gon understood. He needed to head off planet, but now that he’d slept, his Master wanted him. 

Qui-Gon had grit his teeth and gone to bathe and prepare himself. The Chief had given oils along with all the other gifts his new Master’s ship had been weighed down with. Qui-Gon prepared himself and put the well hated gold belt back on. 

He thought his Master would be happy, but he wasn’t. 

Really, his Master turning him away was frustrating because Qui-Gon had gone to a lot of work to get ready for him. It wasn’t that Qui-Gon wanted to be taken, but he was annoying to go to so much trouble. 

And that was the crux of the problem. He knew that his Master wanted him. It wasn’t just that Qui-Gon could see the way the man looked at him. He could feel that his Master was attracted to him and desired him. And while his Master had assured him that later would come, Qui-Gon could also tell that was a lie. 

He was wanted, but not wanted. And if he was not of use he would be sold. He was a man made for work or sex. While Qui-Gon hated the life he had he still had something he feared he more: that he would be sold to a lab to be experimented on. All of the slaves heard stories of medical advancements being made from experiments on those who couldn’t fight back. Qui-Gon would fight if it came to it, but the collar made that whole proposition tenuous. It could kill him, and it could be set with restrictions that cut him off from that feeling which allowed him to know the universe. The few times he’d been cut off were the worst, and he knew he was inhibited even now. He’d been a young man the last time he was allowed full freedom. He’d tried to lead a rebellion then. That had been a mistake that he wasn’t planning to make again. 

After his Master dismissed him he returned to the fresher to clean out some of the oil, since he hated the feeling of it. Then he went to find clothes. He found his work clothes. They were sturdy, much like what his Master wore. Brown breeches, a loose white shirt and work boots. He left his hair up and went to find food. As his Master promised, the kitchenette was stocked with only ration bars (which were better than starving anyway) and tea. 

Qui-Gon knew he should go for the least of the teas, the ones that weren’t as good. But his Master didn’t exactly know what to do with him, and the scent of one of the boxes was so good that Qui-Gon couldn’t help himself. He ate two ration bars while he waited for his tea to steep. Then he sat on the floor and drank. 

It had been such a long time since he’d had tea at all, let alone one he liked. Tea was well used among Slaves, since the cheap ones tended to not cost much, and Masters often handed off the unliked ones from variety packs. But Qui-Gon had been on restrictions for bad behavior for over half a year. 

There was more pleasure in that cup of tea than any orgasm had ever provided Qui-Gon. Forget that the orgasms he’d had were generally one’s he’d either been “allowed” or had wrung out of him. But with good tea that melted away, as did his worries about all else. He felt soothed, just for as long as the cup lasted. 

Once he’d drained is cup he realized he’d made a serious mistake. He’d been told he could eat and drink, but clearly he’d been meant to take the Spice Tea, not the Manellan Jasper. It was expensive and hard to find, and Qui-Gon had gotten himself a cup like it was alright. He stood and began to work, putting the pot on to heat again. Maybe his Master didn’t pay attention to it too much. If Qui-Gon made his Master some, then maybe it would be alright. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. 

Qui-Gon forced himself to put his anxieties away as he put together the tea tray. He wished he had something to serve that weren’t rations bars. There was no way to make those look appetizing, but he put three different flavors on the tray and carried it back to the cockpit. 

His Master looked up, confused until he saw the tray, then a smile settled on his lips. The man relaxed as well, though Qui-Gon wasn’t certain if that had to do with the tea. He saw the way his Master ran his eyes over him. Apparently he was properly dressed. 

“You haven’t eaten yet today, Master Kenobi,” Qui-Gon said, walking over and setting the tray down.

“Not you too,” his Master grumbled. He sat back and allowed Qui-Gon to pour a cup of tea of him. 

“I made you tea as well,” Qui-Gon said. He nearly kicked himself. Way to be obvious about trying to cover up his crimes. 

“Thank you, Qui-Gon,” his Master said. He accepted the cup and took a deep breath of the tea. The tension in his shoulder lessened considerably and he took a little sip. 

“I wasn’t certain what you would prefer,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Mmm, for the most part, not Manellan Jasper,” his Master said, making Qui-Gon’s heart jump. 

“Really?” Qui-Gon asked, attempting to sound interested. 

“Yes. Too many late nights strung out on it trying to stay awake,” his Master said. “The man who was my teacher had a taste for expensive things. It’s hard to find pleasure in a luxury you’ve been inundated with for so many years.”

“My apologies. I can make you something else,” Qui-Gon offered. 

“No, this is fine. For the most part I prefer Sapir.” 

Qui-Gon jolted. Sapir was a common variety of tea, one that while not as likely to be seen being drunk in Slave Quarters, was still very common. And Qui-Gon preferred it. 

“Is something wrong?” his Master asked, cocking his head a little. 

“No,” Qui-Gon said firmly. “But I also prefer Sapir.” 

“Oh good. One of my friends prefers Karlini.” His Master wore a bright smile. “Not that I judge, but I absolutely do not understand. And Anakin hates tea. I suppose people don’t favor Sapir because it’s so common, but there’s so much to the flavor.” 

Qui-Gon found himself smiling. His Master’s pleasure zinged across Qui-Gon’s feeling. That happened sometimes when someone was feeling something very strongly. Qui-Gon found he didn’t mind. 

“I made myself a cup of the Manellan Jasper,” he said. 

“So you like it then? If that’s the case, please drink it. My Padawan’s Padawan bought it for me. I don’t have to heart to tell her it’s… well, not my cup of tea.” 

Qui-Gon resisted both groaning and smiling. “She may buy you more if I drink it all.” 

“Ah, good point. Well, you may drink almost all of it then,” his Master said. There was a sparkle in his eyes that Qui-Gon liked. 

“I’ll leave you to your meal then,” Qui-Gon said. 

“You can stay if you wish. I don’t mind the company.” 

“Now that I’m fully dressed.” 

His Master laughed. “Well, yes, and you brought me tea. I cannot think of anything quite as nice as that.” 

“I can think of a few things,” Qui-Gon said, lowering himself into the co-pilot’s seat. He took the spare cup he’d brought, in case of an accident and poured himself a second cup of tea.

“I hope you’re not talking about sex.” His Master sounded so suspicious that it surprised a laugh out of Qui-Gon. 

“Actually, I was thinking about getting my hair brushed,” Qui-Gon said honestly. It was a simple pleasure that could not be taken away from him. Even if his head was shaved, it would still grown back, and most masters preferred something to cover the back of the collar anyway, since it was often an ugly sight where it fused to the body. 

“I can’t say that’s a pleasure I’m exactly privy too,” his Master said. “Although… no, it has been a while, but it wasn’t the touch more than the one who was touching me.” 

“A lover?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“An almost.” His Master’s tone was so sad. Qui-Gon could feel the sadness swamp him. It was an old loss, one which his Master had relived recently. 

“I’m not really particular,” Qui-Gon said. “Although it’s not something I get to indulge in often.” 

“I can imagine,” his Master said. The sadness was set aside and Qui-Gon felt like he could breathe again. “Although you do seem to be enjoying your tea.” 

“It’s been over half a year since I was allowed tea,” Qui-Gon admitted. “This is, in that case, intoxicating.” He purred out the last word on purpose, just to watch his Master’s cheeks turn pink, which they did. Qui-Gon was pleased and amused, especially when his Master cleared his throat and went for one of the ration bars. He couldn’t hide his feelings like that, not from Qui-Gon. 

“Why were you not allowed?” 

“I told someone no,” Qui-Gon said. “Because he would not listen when a woman said it. She was a freeman, so it was acceptable, but he was a guest and apparently I disrespected him.” He was still unhappy about it, even though he knew he was even within his own rights. 

“I see,” his Master murmured. 

“Master Kenobi, may I ask where we’re headed?” A change of topic was in order. And more tea if he didn’t slow down and savor what he had. 

“Yes, to Coruscant. To the Jedi Temple.” 

“So, you are a Jedi,” Qui-Gon mused. “I’ve heard stories.” 

“Everyone’s heard stories,” his Master said dryly. “I could make you blush with the stories I’ve heard.” 

Qui-Gon bit his bottom lip to try not to smile. This was his Master. Even though he was amusing, he was not Qui-Gon’s friend. He needed to not feel fond of the person who owned him. 

“I’m tempted to dare you to try,” Qui-Gon said. He took a quick sip of tea, but only to pause his speech and think for a moment. “But I do not believe it would be fruitful for either of us.” 

“Probably not,” his Master admitted. “Qui-Gon, do you not want to sleep?” 

“Eventually,” Qui-Gon said. “Do you need me to be awake for a shift?” 

“Yes. In case a ship comes near. We’re a few days from the Core, so it shouldn’t be too bad. So please, rest.” 

Qui-Gon drained the last of his tea and then stood. “Yes, Master Kenobi.” He bowed a little and left, leaving the tray with the rest of the tea and three basically untouched ration bars. He did need to actually rest if he needed to be awake while his Master slept. 

* * *

The tea had been a truly wonderful surprise, one Obi-Wan was more than happy to repay. He waited until Qui-Gon woke from his nap, looking somewhat grumpy still when he returned with more ration bars and a pot of Sapir for them both to share. Qui-Gon poured tea for them. Then they sat in silence while they ate and drank. Obi-Wan was relieved. It was nice to have a little silence, but also companionship. He got that sometimes with Bail or Padme or Plo. But less and less because of the war. 

When they finished, Qui-Gon stood to gather the tray. 

“When you finish cleaning up, will you meet me in the bedroom?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Yes, Master Kenobi,” Qui-Gon said. He didn’t look tense, but Obi-Wan could feel the change in the air around the man. Obi-Wan mentally cursed himself for such terrible phrasing, but Qui-Gon was already leaving and Obi-Wan needed to quickly sync his comm to the ship’s computer before he could leave his station. 

He stood and stretched before heading to the bedroom. 

He got just enough time to find what he was looking for and set his comm down. He was seated on the bed, turning up the volume when Qui-Gon entered the room. 

Qui-Gon didn’t speak, but he came in and sat at the end of the bed, pulling off his boots and setting them aside. Obi-Wan could practically taste the anger and frustration that rolled off Qui-Gon. 

“It’s okay,” Obi-Wan said. “You mentioned that you liked having your hair brushed.” He picked up the brush from the bedside table so Qui-Gon could see. “I thought it would be a nice thank you for making tea for me twice today.” 

Qui-Gon looked very confused, but then he nodded. “Where do you want me?” 

“However is most comfortable for you,” Obi-Wan said. 

“That would be your standing,” Qui-Gon said like he didn’t believe Obi-Wan would stand. But Obi-Wan stood fluidly. Again, Qui-Gon blinked in confusion. But he turned his back to Obi-Wan and sat cross legged near the edge of the bed and pulled the tie out of his hair. 

“Tell me if I do anything wrong, alright? The last time I did with was with a ten year old who didn’t want to brush his hair after a bath.” 

“Your… son?” Qui-Gon guessed. 

“Padawan.” 

Obi-Wan stepped close and picked up a section of hair. He began to run his brush through Qui-Gon’s hair. It wasn’t really soft. It had that slightly more wiry texture that sometimes came with age. But it was pleasant, and Obi-Wan could smell the scent of his shampoo as he ran the brush slowly through Qui-Gon’s hair. 

“You said that word earlier. What does it mean?” 

Apparently Obi-Wan wasn’t the only one who needed a protocol droid. 

“Padawan is our term for apprentice. Children are given voluntarily to the temple, or taken under jurisdiction if they’re being abused. Then they live in the crèche as Initiates until they was chosen by a Knight or Master. While an Initiate, we are taught to a Core Standard, but also taught the philosophy of the Jedi and things like meditation and the basics of making and using a lightsaber. We learn to trust the Force.” 

“The Force?” Qui-Gon asked. As Obi-Wan spoke he’d been brushing. Qui-Gon’s tension drained quickly and he put off an aura of contentment and happiness. Obi-Wan made certain to keep his voice calm and not too loud so as to be soothing. 

“The Force surrounds and is in everything. People who are Force Sensitive can use the Force. For Jedi that means moving things, or increasing our speed or strength. We can sometimes read minds, and sometimes change them. And we came feel what other people are feeling. Like you are feeling very content right now.” 

“Hmm, I can do that,” Qui-Gon said. His voice sounded so soothing, although his words shot alarm through Obi-Wan. “You were relaxed, but now you’re shocked and upset.” 

“It’s… You shouldn’t be able to feel that,” Obi-Wan said. This man was Force Sensitive! It was like Anakin all over again, except so much worse.

“Well, sometimes I can’t. But only when they turn the controls on the collar so I can’t feel it,” Qui-Gon explained. Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped brushing, but he did after that little admittance. All he could feel was horror. It was a Force suppression collar. 

Qui-Gon turned to look at him. “Master Kenobi?” 

“Is it on now?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Partially,” Qui-Gon said. “It always is since I was in my twenties.” 

“And you can still feel what I’m feeling?” There was and edge of panic to Obi-Wan’s voice. 

“Well… yes,” Qui-Gon murmured. “Master… You’re upset.” 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released his feelings to the Force. He’d deal with that later. Right now he didn’t want to panic Qui-Gon. Although Qui-Gon’s eyebrows rose. 

“How did you do that?” 

“A lot of practice,” Obi-Wan said. “And training. Can you tell me how to turn that part off?” 

Now Qui-Gon gave him a wary look. “You would actually turn it off?” His voice was so cold that Obi-Wan actually shivered. 

“It’s the worst kind of violation to a Force Sensitive,” Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, just studying Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan sent a small prayer to the Force that Qui-Gon would just trust him. But by the ice in Qui-Gon’s eyes, Obi-Wan wasn’t certain he would. 

“And how do I know you won’t lock me down, make me blind again?” Qui-Gon demanded. 

“You don’t,” Obi-Wan said. “But I’m certain there’s an instruction manual now. If you tell me, then you’ll get the answer to your question much faster.” 

Qui-Gon let out a breath, looking a little defeated. He dropped his gaze down to his knees. He was silent for a moment, his shoulders slumping. Obi-Wan wished he knew how to comfort him, but he also knew not to touch. 

Qui-Gon didn’t look at him as he explained how to turn off the suppression. And he stayed stock still while Obi-Wan worked with the collar. Obi-Wan dialed back until he felt the click of the internal mechanism. Then Qui-Gon gasped.

Obi-Wan kept a steadying hand on his shoulder, trying to keep Qui-Gon centered. Qui-Gon’s breath became labored and Obi-Wan realized that Qui-Gon had begun crying. He wished again that he knew how to comfort the man, but he simply felt useless. 

Qui-Gon tipped his head up and looked at Obi-Wan. As Obi-Wan feared, his eyes were filled to the brim with tears. 

“Will you leave me alone?” Qui-Gon asked in barely more than a whisper. 

“I’ll be in the cockpit,” Obi-Wan said. He grabbed his comm and set down the brush. Then he fled the room.

* * *

His Master had turned off the restrictions on what he could feel. Qui-Gon had an entire day without the suppression and he still couldn’t believe it. It felt like the very air around him zinged with power. Master Kenobi was a Jedi, so Qui-Gon probably couldn’t kill him and make a run for it. But he could probably injure him seriously if he wanted, which was why Qui-Gon had a hard time believing the man had actually allowed him full access to what he’d called the Force. 

So Qui-Gon avoided him. He didn’t want the man to change his mind. And he needed time to just sort out everything he was feeling. It had been such a long time since he’d had full access. It was like his head had been fuzzy and heavy for most of his life, or like his hands had always been bound. But finally he was whole again. He wept with relief and the anguish of all the time he’d been constrained. But he never did it where his Master could see. 

He was grateful, but it was also terrifying. He knew his Master was very worried about him and how isolated he’d allowed himself to become. He also knew his Master could feel what he was feeling, but Qui-Gon would go to hell before he’d acknowledge it. Before his Master had a sense of how he was feeling, but now Qui-Gon could feel more and more of what his Master felt. Which Qui-Gon was keeping to himself, lest the collar be activated again. 

After about a day and a half of isolation, Qui-Gon went to make tea and bring some to his Master. He needed to be grateful and act like it. He drew up his courage and went to face the man. He had a plan: tea and then he’d blow his Master and make him feel good. It wasn’t nearly good enough as a thank you, but it would be a start and he’d be able to get his Master past his nerves about touching him. 

His resolve seemed solid until he walked into the kitchenette and found his Master standing there already making tea. He looked up and offered a smile that was filled with relief. 

“Hello, Qui-Gon,” his Master said. 

And Qui-Gon’s resolve nearly crumpled. But he took a steadying breath and stepped forward right into his Master’s personal space. He lay his hands on his Master’s hips, watching him closely. His Master was watching back, his nerves zinging. The feeling was so strong that it just made Qui-Gon more nervous, but he didn’t let the emotions grip him. His Master licked his lips, drawing Qui-Gon’s eyes to them.

“Qui-Gon?” His Master asked. 

Qui-Gon lowered his head and kissed him. He had soft lips, though his moustache tickled a little. But it was a pleasant feeling. As was the feelings he was getting from his Master. His Master wanted him, desperately. His mind listed off a litany of things he found attractive about Qui-Gon, including his mouth and his face and hair and body. 

Qui-Gon let out a soft groan and kissed his Master again. He could build off feelings that strong. It made it easier for him. And he imagined that his Master would be gentle, at least the first time. And if he wasn’t? Well, his Master still had given him back his wholeness. He could do just about anything and Qui-Gon would still be grateful. 

As suddenly as Qui-Gon had begun to get used to the happy, pliant man in his arms, and the gentle but hungry kisses, it all stopped. His Master placed his hands on Qui-Gon’s shoulders and pushed him away. But even before that he’d stopped kissing back. Qui-Gon allowed himself to be pushed away. 

Some Masters wanted to be pursued, but Qui-Gon could see the wariness in his Master’s eyes, so he didn’t press forward again. 

“Please don’t do that again,” his Master said. That was a serious voice. An upset voice. Qui-Gon took a step back and took his hands off his Master. 

“I apologize, Master,” Qui-Gon said. His knees shook a little. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg not to be punished, though he knew he deserved it for making his Master unhappy. More so because he had made his Master feel bad, after what his Master had done for him. But pride kept him standing tall. 

“Oh, Qui-Gon, I’m sorry,” his Master said. The tone his Master used, apologetic and guilty, it twisted a knife in Qui-Gon’s heart. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Master. I should not have touched you without permission,” Qui-Gon said. 

“You were trying to make me happy.” So his Master was reading him as well. 

“Which I didn’t do, clearly,” Qui-Gon responded, bitterness in his tone. 

“You do want to make me happy, don’t you?” 

“I cannot tell you what you’ve done for me. I want to repay this, even though I’m not certain I can,” Qui-Gon tried to explain. It was dangerous to admit he owed his Master anything, but he sensed that his Master wouldn’t hold this over him. And even if he did, what did it matter? If Qui-Gon was allowed this access, then what did it matter? 

“But I do understand. A few times, during the war, and when I was in training I was captured. Force Suppression isn’t that common, but just common enough that it’s happened. And it’s the worst feeling in the world. It’s like someone cut off an arm and both my legs and left me to bleed and die. And most of the time I had to get myself out of it. It’s hard to survive that way, even for a little while. I think I wouldn’t have made it if someone cut me off the way you’ve been cut off.” 

Qui-Gon felt horror rise up in his chest. His Master had been cut off the way Qui-Gon had? Those days and months of total loss had nearly killed him. And his Master had it happened before as well. Qui-Gon thought he might be sick. 

He had to shove those thoughts aside. He pulled on a sardonic smile. 

“You’ll be surprised what you can survive,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Yes,” his Master said in a near whisper. He looked so sad. “Qui-Gon… if I tell you what will make me happy, you’d do it, right?” 

“Of course, Master,” Qui-Gon said quickly. 

His Master gave him a small smile. “No matter how weird it is?” 

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, starting to wonder if his Master had a tentacle dick or something. His Master laughed, clearly having caught that stray thought. 

“Not that weird,” his Master promised, wiping at his eyes. He did have a nice laugh. Qui-Gon smirked when he saw his Master blush a delicate shade of pink. Good, he’d actually thought that loudly on purpose. 

“No matter how weird it is,” Qui-Gon promised. 

“I want to give you a back rub,” his Master said. 

Qui-Gon found himself starring for a bit. He did his best to subtly probe, but he didn’t feel a lie. “You lied. That is way weirder than tentacle dick,” he said flatly. 

His Master cackled. He really did have a nice laugh. His face changed when he laughed. There was something sweet and earnest about the sound as well. And sexy. It was enough to distract Qui-Gon from the fact that he’d let loose the humor he never showed his Masters. 

But really, making his Master laugh like that was worth it. 

“Alright, now?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Yes, well it is near end of shift,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Bedroom?” 

“Yes, Qui-Gon.” 

His Master turned and finished making tea. Qui-Gon took the tray and the pair of them walked back to the bedroom. Qui-Gon set the tray on the little table in the bedroom and poured them both cups. They sat next to each other on the bed and drank their tea. 

They didn’t talk, but Qui-Gon didn’t feel like they needed to. He mused for a moment what it would have been like to meet this man in any other circumstance. He didn’t let himself consider it for long, lest the Jedi overhear. But it allowed himself a brief moment to wish for his freedom. 

They each had two cups of tea, and his Master allowed him to have the last of the tea from the pot, which was about half a cup. Qui-Gon felt very settled after that. He slipped off his shirt and pulled his hair up on top of his head where it would be out of the way. He sat on the edge of the bed again with his back to his Master. 

Through the Force he could feel his Master seeking out the massage oils that had been loaded onto the ship. Qui-Gon thought of his favored scent, the kind that made him nearly bury his nose in his masters’ neck as he rubbed it into their backs. He’d had the scent used against him, to try and make him be more amorous. But this time the smell would be on him and he wanted it.

Qui-Gon was pleased when he heard the bottle be uncapped and the lovely spicy, floral scent filled the room. He sat still and closed his eyes. He listened as his Master rubbed the oil between his hands. There was something funny about the squelching sound that made Qui-Gon’s mouth twitch. 

His Master had warm hands, which Qui-Gon discovered as soon as they were placed on his back. His Master was also a skilled masseur. Sitting up wasn’t the most optimal for a full massage, but there were some muscles that were easier to reach while sitting. His Master focused on those places, like his shoulders and a little bit on his chest.

Qui-Gon didn’t bother to open his eyes. He made soft hums when something felt good, and quiet gasps if it hurt too much. And he relaxed. He knew why his masters had enjoyed this kind of attention now. The touch could be intimate, but it was so soothing. And if this made his Master happy, Qui-Gon would happily submit to this kind of attention. 

They didn’t speak through the process, but Qui-Gon was fine with that. He could feel his Master’s pleasure at touching him like that. And the massage did a lot for Qui-Gon too. When it was over he turned around to watch his Master clean his hands and put the oil away. Jedi were warriors, powerful beings of Light. And this one had lowered himself to caring for a slave like Qui-Gon was a person. 

Qui-Gon tugged on his shirt and went over to his Master. He caught him by the shirt and tugged him into a short kiss. 

“Thank you, Master Kenobi. You rest. I’ll go on watch.” He knew he was smirking. His Master looked so bewildered, but it was an endearing look, one Qui-Gon didn’t stay to ponder on. 

His walked to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot’s seat. 

When he was a boy he remembered dreaming about flying, flying away from his troubles. He remembered Slave myths about Slaves who turned into birds and escaped to the sky. And he remembered Slaves who turned into fish and swam away. Or all kinds of animals. 

That was why the fused collars were so terrible. The myth was that even if a Slave found a way to change that the gold stuck to them and they would still be bound to their masters for all eternity. Even the exploding chips didn’t hold the same power. But the collars were much more expensive. They were made to show that the Slave who wore it was property, forever. The price was worth the absolute subjugation. 

Qui-Gon had dreamed as a boy of escape. But by the time the collar was applied he knew that even flight wouldn’t mean freedom. He flew ships for his Masters, not for himself. His body, his will, his life, his skills and talents belonged wholly to another. All he owned were his dreams, and those were merely bitter ashes in his mouth. 

The ship didn’t really need him, even. He just sat and watched the stars go by because his Master needed sleep. Granted, his Master had more hours where he stayed in the cockpit than Qui-Gon did. His Master was kind. Or he appeared to be. 

Jedi were mythical. They freed the weak and chained. Like Angels, but their flaming swords had explanations through science, and they were human, or other mortal sentients. 

A part of Qui-Gon wanted to believe the Jedi would be good to him. But he had no faith in anything anymore. And a Master who tried to be kind in the beginning always turned. It was a trick or a trap, trying to lure a Slave into giving more than what was the very minimum that could be given. They tried to convince Slaves that they were important to their masters. Then they used them and broke them. 

Qui-Gon had been broken over and over his entire life. Masters who pretended to be kind would be the cruelest. 

But so long as his Master allowed him to feel the Force, Qui-Gon would comply. 

But because his Master knew what Qui-Gon wanted most, he could hurt Qui-Gon more than anyone had before. Qui-Gon wasn’t foolish enough to think he was immune to loss, even when he didn’t have anything left. 

* * *

Obi-Wan was so grateful to see Coruscant again. He supposed it was terrible to say that Qui-Gon was driving him insane, but it was true. It wasn’t like Qui-Gon could exactly help it. He thought Obi-Wan owned him and wanted to fuck him against the closest surface.

And technically this was true. 

But Obi-Wan knew the different between lust and reality. Qui-Gon was one of the most wounded people Obi-Wan had ever seen. And he was terribly powerful and beaten. If he knew the kind of power he had, Qui-Gon may have ripped up the Chief and everyone who’d used him. Even with the collar turned half on, Qui-Gon had been strong enough that he could have done so. Obi-Wan was certain of it. 

But Obi-Wan had better training, with more experience and knowledge. And Qui-Gon knew that, which was probably why he could look so hunted sometimes. 

The only time he let his guard down were when Obi-Wan rubbed his shoulders or made him tea. Qui-Gon enjoyed the simple pleasures, allowing all else to melt away. Seeing Qui-Gon so relaxed made Obi-Wan wonder what it would be like to bed the man. Not the man he owned, but Qui-Gon, free of the restrictions of ownership. 

Would Qui-Gon give himself wholly to pleasure and his lover? Would his eyes sparkle? Would he be as relaxed? If he kissed the way he did when he didn’t want to kiss, what would he kiss like if he wanted to? Would he smile and laugh? Would he be happy? Would Obi-Wan be able to feel his happiness through the Force? 

Obi-Wan wanted to know all these things. But he was almost smart enough to know it was impossible. Even once Qui-Gon was freed, he would probably always see Obi-Wan as the man who owned him, even if Obi-Wan couldn’t help it. 

Sith, Obi-Wan just wished he could make friends with the man one day. There was something so engaging about him. Obi-Wan felt such a strong pull toward him. But Obi-Wan wouldn’t force his presence upon Qui-Gon much longer. He’d get the collar off and help him get money and possibly get his identity back, if he was really from the Core. Then he’d let Qui-Gon go. That was the plan. 

Obi-Wan piloted his ship into the hangar. Qui-Gon had come to sit with him once they approached the planet. His eyes had gotten a little large at the look of the city planet. Obi-Wan had enjoyed Qui-Gon’s wide eyed amazement at what he saw. 

He carefully landed the ship and stood up, stretching. “Someone will unload the ship for us,” he said. He’d spotted some people nearby he wanted to see. “If you’ll just follow me.” 

Qui-Gon had stuck to work clothes since the first day, for which Obi-Wan was glad. He was also jealous of Qui-Gon’s boots, which looked stylish and comfortable by Coruscant standards. He also understood that they were very sturdy. Obi-Wan had kept that particular thought to himself. All that mattered was that Obi-Wan didn’t have to embarrass himself by starring at Qui-Gon’s chest, and no one would be leering at him when they were in the Temple. Probably. 

Obi-Wan guided Qui-Gon off the ship. He meant to try and introduce Qui-Gon to the Temple, but he was quickly distracted when Cody approached. 

“General, how was the trip?” Cody asked. The 212th had been temporarily grounded while Obi-Wan was gone. Obi-Wan was glad. He wanted his men to rest while they could.

“Eventful,” Obi-Wan said dryly. 

Obi-Wan noticed how Cody’s eyes slid past him. Obi-Wan turned, seeing that Cody’s gaze wasn’t just on Qui-Gon, but on his gold collar.

“With a few complications,” Obi-Wan added. 

“Understood, General,” Cody said. Obi-Wan felt a little knot ease in his heart. It was good to know Cody still had faith in him, 

“Have you seen Knight Skywalker?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“He’s on mission. He should be back in a few days,” Cody said. Obi-Wan resisted groaning. Great. He’d really hoped Anakin would be there to help Qui-Gon. Oh well. He’d just have to make do. 

“Thank you, Cody. Qui-Gon, this is Commander Cody of the 212th,” Obi-Wan introduced. 

“Sir,” Qui-Gon said, giving Cody a respectful nod. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Cody said politely. “General, do you need help getting him settled?” 

“Unfortunately I need Qui-Gon with me when I see the Council,” Obi-Wan said. “But thank you. We’re going to be here at least a few more days. Unless an assignment comes down for the 212th and not me, you should have more time to rest.” 

“Thank you, Sir,” Cody said. 

“Qui-Gon, this way,” Obi-Wan said. He started to guide Qui-Gon out toward the lifts. He needed to get to the Council chambers as soon as he could. He’d sent a message before he’d landed to call a meeting. Besides needing to debrief on his mission, he also needed help with Qui-Gon.

“General?” Qui-Gon asked when they’d left the hanger and were further down the hall. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, glancing over at Qui-Gon. 

“You lead an army?” Qui-Gon asked slowly. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “Not by choice, exactly. With the war going on, everyone is needed… and I wouldn’t want to leave my men unprotected. Their lives mean the exact same that mine does, and it’s not right for us to plan battles and send them to the front lines alone without every bit of help they can get.” 

“So,” Qui-Gon hedged. “You fight the battles too then?” 

“That’s what I was there for. I needed to negotiate use of the travel ways around your planet.” 

“It’s not my planet,” Qui-Gon said, his voice becoming cold as ice. “It’s merely the last place I was sold to.” 

“My apologies, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said quickly. 

“Will I come with you?” Qui-Gon asked. “When you go back to the field?” 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, being firm and gentle in tone. 

Qui-Gon nodded. He had a considering look on his face. “So I’ll be here to help you relieve your tension when you get back?” 

Obi-Wan stopped completely. It took Qui-Gon another two steps before he realized and stopped. “Oh, Qui-Gon. No. I’m not going to abuse you like that.” 

Qui-Gon didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Yes, Master Kenobi.” 

Obi-Wan let out a long sigh. “It’s okay. Let’s just see the Council and get you to medical. Then we can rest and have a meal that isn’t ration bars.” 

Qui-Gon’s lips twitched. “That sounds nice, Master.” 

Obi-Wan offered him a half smile. “I think so too. So, let’s get this part finished.” 

He turned and guided Qui-Gon the rest of the way to the Council chamber. 

Most of the Council was away. The only members there were Yoda, Mace, Kit Fisto and Plo Koon. The rest were either holo-messaged in, or they weren’t there. It was fine, for a report it shouldn’t mean much. But Obi-Wan had someone with him. Mace’s eyebrows rose as soon he saw Qui-Gon. But he at least kept his mouth shut until the doors were closed. 

“I didn’t know you were bringing a guest to this debrief, Master Kenobi,” Mace said dryly.

“This is Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said. “The negotiations with Slhilsma went well. The GAR is allowed full access to the routes around the planet. And it’s likely the Jedi Order will be welcome there for generations.” 

“And your guest?” Mace asked.

“Slhilsma has a strong gifting culture. Turning anything down would dissolve the treaties I helped to make. The ship is well stocked with gifts I couldn’t turn down… Unfortunately, Qui-Gon is one of those gifts.” 

Obi-Wan could see the troubled looks on the other councilor’s faces, but he felt a certain level of shock coming from Qui-Gon. 

“Not only that, but Qui-Gon is powerfully force sensitive. The collar he wears can be used as a Force suppressant. When we met it was on 47% power, but even still, he could feel what I was feeling, even though I was well shielded. Also, I believe there is a chance he may have been from the Core originally.” 

“Troubling, deeply troubling what Master Kenobi says,” Yoda said. He got out of his hover chair and walked to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon knelt down to Yoda’s height, looking the Grandmaster in the eyes. “Qui-Gon, your name is?” 

“Qui-Gon Jinn,” Qui-Gon said. “I was taught to hide it from my masters,” he explained, glancing at Obi-Wan before looking back to Yoda. 

“Know you, I do,” Yoda said sadly. “To the Temple you were supposed to have come. A Jedi, you should have been. Changed their mind, your family did. Illness, they told us you caught. Died, they said you did.” 

Obi-Wan rocked back on his heels. He knew what that probably meant, but he sent a prayer to the Force that Qui-Gon wouldn’t. 

But Qui-Gon put off a feeling of deep pain so cold and down to the bone that Obi-Wan could barely resist shivering. 

“They sold me,” Qui-Gon said. “Because doing what I can do made me more profitable.” 

“Master Yoda,” Kit Fisto said. “Do we know if this has happened to any other children?” 

“The Holocron is supposed to hold the name of Force Sensitive children born every generation,” Plo Koon said. “Anakin Skywalker was missed. Perhaps there are other names that were missed.” 

“His name wasn’t missed, Master Koon. His family lied to us,” Mace said.

“Even still, it is in our best interest to investigate,” Plo said. “If other children have had this happen to them… it may not be too late for some of them.” 

“Investigate, we will,” Yoda said. He was still looking at Qui-Gon. “Welcome here, you are, Ser Jinn. A home here, you may make.” 

Qui-Gon felt touched. There was hope soaring in him and then a certain level of fear. He glanced at Obi-Wan. 

“I do not own you, Qui-Gon Jinn. We’ll get that collar off you and then you may go on your way if you so choose.” 

“There’s a problem with that,” Ki-Adi Mundi said. His picture warbled a bit. “I know those collars. I’ve seen them. They are tightly linked to the nervous system. It’s very difficult to remove, nearly impossible. Ser Jinn might die if we try to remove it, especially if he’s worn it for a long time.” 

“I’ve had it since I was a teenager,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Another problem, there is,” Yoda said. 

“What?” Obi-Wan asked. The collar seemed the worst to him. He didn’t want Qui-Gon to be lost to them, because of the evils of the universe. 

“Bonded, you are,” Yoda said. 

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, blinking in confusion.

“I can feel it too, actually,” Mace said. “Obi-Wan, was there a ritual?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “A ritual. Both to link my DNA to the collar and… some type of chest painting with water and oil.” 

“A Force bonding ceremony, that was,” Yoda said. “Very old. Older than maybe the order itself. Seen it rarely. With only one Force Sensitive, or Nulls, nothing, it would mean. But two strong force users? A bond, the ritual made. Bound you are.” 

“Can it be undone?” Qui-Gon asked. His deep voice carried even though he was nearly whispering. 

“Very painful, it would be. Take much from you, it would. Destroy your connection to the Force, it might. Kill you, it might. A good idea, it is not… connected you are. Feel each other, communicate with each other, you will always be able to.” 

Obi-Wan drew breath in through his nose, but in his mind he was building a detailed picture of flying right back to the Chief and landing the ship on top of his head and his hut. How dare he do this to Qui-Gon? How dare he force him into a slavery that Obi-Wan couldn’t free him from? This was worse than never seeing Qui-Gon again. Qui-Gon was trapped with him now. 

“We’ll explore the issue,” Mace said. “For now, Master Kenobi, take Ser Jinn to medical and yourself as well.” 

“Yes, Masters,” Obi-Wan said. He bowed his head and guided Qui-Gon out. 

They walked side by side toward medical and neither of them said anything. Obi-Wan felt bad, but he imaged the bad feeling was both of them heterodyning off each other. He felt nothing but guilt and it wanted to eat him up and drag him down. He’d need to meditate and let it go, but for a moment, he was content to stew in it. 

* * *

Qui-Gon didn’t exactly know what being bonded meant until the doctor explained it to him. The doctor, a twilek man with kind eyes, told him it was like marriage. But stronger. They would want to seek each other out, just to be close because the bond wanted the closeness. While he and Master Kenobi could be separated, it would make them both feel like they were missing something terribly important. Their bond meant no matter how far away they were from each other, they would be able to feel each other’s feelings and see their thoughts. 

And it would get stronger. 

The Doctor assured him that the bond did not mean he was going to desire Master Kenobi, only to be nearby. If they shared the same quarters, it would satisfy that needs. Even an hour shared in each other’s presence would rejuvenate the bond. 

Qui-Gon wasn’t exactly happy about it. Mostly because Master Kenobi would have to head back to the frontline, and if he died, Qui-Gon would feel it. It would rob him of something. What that something was, the Doctor couldn’t describe. But Jedi didn’t bond for a reason. Besides the fact that their philosophy forbid that level of attachment, it left too much pain and suffering in its wake for those left behind. 

What Qui-Gon found most curious was that Master Kenobi wasn’t upset for himself. He was upset because he assumed Qui-Gon was upset. But Qui-Gon wasn’t. It was much more freeing than the collar, and the Doctor believed that the collar could be remove after time and study. And the Doctor ripped out the part that would take his ability to feel the Force. 

The other perplexing, and honestly amusing thing was the angry image Master Kenobi had gotten in his mind, of dropping a ship on the Chief’s house. Master Kenobi was filled with righteous fury and indignation on Qui-Gon’s behalf. 

And nothing his Master Kenobi felt would ever be hidden from him, even if the suppression was turned on full. Qui-Gon would always be connected to the Force now because of the bond. Master Kenobi could always find him now, but now Qui-Gon could find him as well. 

He wasn’t unhappy about it. 

He just wasn’t certain what to do with himself anymore. If he really wasn’t owned, what did he do then? Of course he could take care of himself, but short of escape, he had never strove for anything before. And here it was, handed to him. 

Master Kenobi guided him to his quarters. There was the feeling not just of Master Kenobi but of another. 

“Does someone else live here, Master Kenobi?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“That would be Anakin,” Master Kenobi said. “He doesn’t technically live here, but he still keeps his room. I don’t plan on taking another Padawan for a while, so there’s no reason to make him move.” 

“It feels like him,” Qui-Gon noted. 

“Yes, well Anakin’s Force Signature can be rather… potent… Qui-Gon, you don’t have to call me Master Kenobi. I just didn’t want you to worry until I got you home. You may call me Obi-Wan if you wish.” 

“And if I don’t wish?” Qui-Gon closely examined Master Kenobi’s face for a hint of a lie. 

“Well, you don’t have to. But I don’t own you,” Master Kenobi said. “When people call me Master, it’s because it’s a title. Like Doctor. I earned it because I raised a Padawan to a Knight. I have enough mastery of the ways of a Jedi to be able to raise a full-fledged Jedi myself. When Ahsoka passes her Jedi Trials, then Knight Anakin Skywalker will become Master Anakin Skywalker. Right now the only person who calls him Master is Ashoka, and only because it is a tradition. And Anakin mostly likes it better when she calls him Skyguy.” 

Qui-Gon’s mouth twitched. “Skyguy?” 

“Yes. Anakin likes the nickname, even though he pretends to hate it sometimes,” Master Kenobi said. “In any case, the way you use the word is not the same as how we use it. No one owns you. It’s not a slave bond. I am bound to you as well.” 

“The Doctor explained it to me,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Healer Che, yes? He would know. He’s very good.” 

“You would prefer I call you Obi-Wan?” 

“Yes, I would prefer it.” It was odd to see such a self-deprecating smile on the man’s face. But it would make him happy, so who was Qui-Gon to say no? 

“Alright, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said. He felt pleasure shoot through Obi-Wan. Really? For such a small thing? Well, Qui-Gon would just have to continue. 

“Yes, thank you, Qui-Gon… Um, I wondered if maybe you’d like if I drew you a bath?” 

“A bath?” Qui-Gon asked. He knew how his mouth twisted. He couldn’t understand why Obi-Wan would want to do such a thing. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s been a long few days. I promise I won’t let you fall asleep. But I thought it would help you relax.” 

“Alright,” Qui-Gon said. He nodded his head. Obi-Wan had some plan in his head, and Qui-Gon could sense it. Also, he was curious. “You may draw me a bath if you wish.” 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. He stepped away and headed to the room that had the strongest feeling of him. The door opened and Qui-Gon got a look at a lot of boxes like the ones that were on the ship.

“The… gifts we were sent with have been somewhat temporarily shunted off to my room, it seems. Would you mind finding your things within them?” Obi-Wan said, turning away from his room to look back at Qui-Gon.

“No,” Qui-Gon said. “What happens to the rest of it? It was for you, after all.” 

“It depends,” Obi-Wan said. “Gifts like ships are donated the temple for use. Clothes are often donated or set aside for missions. Food is more complicated. Some things we can give away to the lower city. Some things it’s impossible to do that with… Qui-Gon, you are not a Jedi. You may choose what you want from all of this.” 

“Alright,” Qui-Gon said. He followed after the man. “How about we do this first. Then we can fuss with the bath?” 

“I think it will go faster with two of us,” Obi-Wan said. 

The pair of them set to work with the boxes. Obi-Wan made a list, numbering each box and what was in it. He noted the things that Qui-Gon took for himself as well. Obi-Wan mentioned that having the list would allow them to have coverage, should something happen or someone, like the Senate, get angry. Qui-Gon just nodded and kept looking around.

He picked out clothes for himself. He didn’t pick many of the costumes. Instead he went for things that covered him or would keep him warm. He did take some of the hair ornaments, but Qui-Gon also knew he may try to sell them. If he was a freeman, then he could sell these things and not get in trouble. There were weapons and texts and clothes and foods. Qui-Gon grabbed a couple of the food items, but all of them were the less expensive ones. The decadent ones made him feel sick to his stomach, but it would nice to have familiar food, at least for a while. He knew from experience it made the transition to a new place easier. 

“I’m going to get the bath started,” Obi-Wan said. 

Qui-Gon nodded. He wasn’t really paying attention, instead focusing on putting the things he’d taken for himself into the box they’d set aside. Qui-Gon wasn’t moving into Anakin’s room, so for now his meager possessions would live in a box. Maybe it was pathetic, but the idea of having his own things, things that belonged to him and not to his Master made him very happy. 

“The bath’s ready.” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through Qui-Gon’s thought process. He stood and pulled his shirt off over his head. 

Qui-Gon headed to the fresher, his thoughts still back at the box. He halted his steps when he got to the door way, the scent wafting out of the room jarring him out of his thoughts. 

The very wealthy on Slhilsma would sometimes drink a type of blooming flower tea. The beauty of the flowers blooming in the water was supposed to add to the experience. And it was beautiful, and the scent was distinctive and sweet, though Qui-Gon found the sips he’d had to be bland at best. Qui-Gon had even seen his masters put a tea flower into their tea baths before. 

But the bath had about a dozen of them in them. 

“I got you towels,” Obi-Wan said, indicating the little stack by the sink. 

“Will you stay?” Qui-Gon asked, beginning to step out of his pants. He’d taken his boots off while they worked on the boxes. 

“If you wish,” Obi-Wan said. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d like for me to wash your hair for you.” 

Qui-Gon let out a pleased rumble at that idea. Obi-Wan had strong, warm hands. He had the hands of a man that worked hard, and Qui-Gon found that a pleasing and familiar feeling. He stepped out of the last of his clothes and climbed into the tall white bath. It surprised him by being long enough for his tall body. He slipped into the water up to his shoulders and let out a happy sigh. 

“This smells so good,” he said. 

“I thought it might,” Obi-Wan said. He sat down next to the tub where Qui-Gon could still see his head and shoulders, but not so Obi-Wan would be facing him. The tub dipped so it had high ends where Qui-Gon could lean his head, but so he would have to kill himself trying to climb in.

“Do all Jedi have a tub like this?” Qui-Gon asked. 

Obi-Wan snorted. “No. This was the result of Anakin’s height and ingenuity.” 

“He’s tall?” 

“Not as tall as you, but close. And the old tub was tight for me. I’m not going to complain. And we always got sent on the hard missions. A long soak after that is one of the greatest decadences in the galaxy.” 

It was Qui-Gon’s turn to snort. “You and I have vastly different ideas of decadence.” 

“Probably. But it feels like it.” Obi-Wan sounded so amused. He was amused, Qui-Gon could feel that. It was a pleasant feeling. And Obi-Wan was much more relaxed than he had been on the ship. Qui-Gon guessed that was what home meant. 

“So, the flowers?” 

“They were beautiful,” Obi-Wan said. “And you deserve something nice. I probably would have done it on the ship if I’d known we had them and I was certain you would let me.” 

“Do you often pile kindnesses on to other people?” 

“With my friends. So Anakin, definitely. He’s my little brother and I raised him. And Ahsoka. And definitely Plo and Mace. Kit too, and Adi and Shaak. Luminara. Of course they’re all Jedi. Being a Jedi can be difficult, so I try to help where I can. But of course I want to be kind to my troops. And the 212th and Anakin’s 501st often work together. And it’s best to be kid not those who fight so hard for us. But I have other friends outside of the war effort. There’s Bail and Padme, specifically. And Satine, of course Satine, even though we tend to bicker more than anything else. And, well, Jedi are supposed to be compassionate to all living things.” 

Qui-Gon felt his amusement grew. A smile settled on his lips. “So, to answer my question: you are far too kind to everyone.” 

Obi-Wan turned and gave him a scowl, which made Qui-Gon chuckle. “Well, not everyone. But I find being nice is a good form of diplomacy. And after all, I am known as the Negotiator.” He smiled, showing his teeth. 

Qui-Gon shivered. That was a really good look for Jedi Master Kenobi. Qui-Gon really liked it. 

“So, would you make yourself your own bath with tea flowers?” 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, turning back around. “But I have salts Padme gave me. And something call bubble bath, and nice soaps. I don’t use it often, but even Jedi need to rest sometimes.” 

“That sounds nice,” Qui-Gon said. 

“I can show you how to use them.” 

“That’s stuff for you, though.” 

“But I don’t believe you have had enough pampering in your life, Qui-Gon. I will endeavor to fix this problem,” Obi-Wan said, turning enough to meet Qui-Gon’s eyes. “I do get pleasure making people happy. Please don’t worry.” 

“I know you do,” Qui-Gon said. “I can feel the truth of your words.” 

Obi-Wan’s guilt came back up. Qui-Gon sighed. He couldn’t make Obi-Wan feel like it wasn’t a bad thing. Not yet, anyway. They didn’t know each other well, not yet. And Qui-Gon did mean to get to know his bond mate. If he was supposed to be so connected to the man for the rest of his life, he at least wanted to know him better. 

“I saved a little bit of Slhilsma chocolate. Would you like to try a bit once I’ve gotten dried off?” 

“I… that sounds lovely, Qui-Gon, thank you,” Obi-Wan said. 

Calmness returned to Obi-Wan, so Qui-Gon sat back and let them both be calm. The bath really was lovely. He would absolutely have to make use of it often. Qui-Gon felt himself smile. Imagine Obi-Wan calling his a decadence when masters dripped themselves his jewels and expensive, ate dishes made of nearly extinct creatures? He’d been dressed up more than once to be shown off so his masters’ wealth would be known. He’d participated in horrible rituals to make his masters feel something besides boredom. 

But for Obi-Wan, the small luxury of a hot bath after hard work was decadence. 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. He felt Obi-Wan stand and go to get the soaps. Qui-Gon kept his eyes closed. Through their connection he felt Obi-Wan shed a few of his outer layers, down to the last, more clinging shirt, which he rolled up the sleeves of. Qui-Gon opened his eyes to watch Obi-Wan as he started considering soaps. 

“Would you liked to pick?” Obi-Wan asked, holding up a bar of soap shaped like a star. 

“Yes,” Qui-Gon said. He moved to lean against the edge of the tub. Qui-Gon was allowed to sniff each bar of soap and each shampoo, deciding which he wanted to smell like. Then Obi-Wan picked up a wash cloth and began lathering it with the soap Qui-Gon had selected. 

Qui-Gon kept his eyes open, watching Obi-Wan work.

Qui-Gon wouldn’t call the touch professional. It felt far too intimate than that. But Qui-Gon never felt violated or invaded. Obi-Wan started with his arms, lathering and then rinsing him. The only sound was their breathing and the dripping of the water off the cloth back into the tub. Obi-Wan scrubbed with a firm hand, but gentle in a way that felt soothing. Next Obi-Wan moved to his chest, having Qui-Gon sit up so he could reach better. 

Qui-Gon had to pile his hair on top of his head while Obi-Wan washed his back and neck. Occasionally one of Obi-Wan’s fingers would brush against his skin. Every little touch felt so good. It was an accident, and Qui-Gon was certain it was an accident. The Force moved around Obi-Wan. He was so focused it was like he was in a trance. Qui-Gon liked watching him work. 

Obi-Wan washed his entire body. The only time Obi-Wan stuttered in his work was when he came to Qui-Gon’s genitals. Qui-Gon had offered him a small smile at that moment. “You have my permission, Master Kenobi.” 

Obi-Wan had met his eyes and then blushed. The pink on his cheeks was adorable and Qui-Gon found himself smirking, which only made Obi-Wan scowl. But he did finish washing Qui-Gon’s body, taking the same care with all of it. 

They cycled the water so it would be clean and then Obi-Wan began to wash Qui-Gon’s hair. They still had the tea flowers in the tub, but the scent they gave off was much more muted. Qui-Gon had to lay back a few times for Obi-Wan to rinse his hair, but that wasn’t much of an imposition. The feeling of Obi-Wan’s strong fingers massaging his scalp was too beautiful to let anything bother him. 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and allowed himself to be guided around. He kept his eyes closed when Obi-Wan cycled the water again to do a final rinse. He only opened his eyes when a shadow passed over his eyelids. Obi-Wan was leaned over, smiling down at him and looking truly beautiful doing it. Qui-Gon felt his heart rate pick up a little. 

“Hello there. Are you ready to get out?” Obi-Wan’s voice felt the same way his hands did on Qui-Gon’s skin: intimate and safe and absolutely intoxicating. 

Qui-Gon didn’t speak. He did nod, though. Obi-Wan smiling a little more. He reached his arm into the water and began to drain the tub. He assisted Qui-Gon up and out of the tub. He dried his body and his hair, offering the exact same level of care he had all along the way. 

“Give me one moment,” Obi-Wan murmured. Qui-Gon let him go. He was still warm, since the fresher had filled up with steam. Obi-Wan returned in a moment with one of the luxurious robes he’d been gifted. He wrapped it around Qui-Gon like Qui-Gon was the type of man who’d ever been given something so nice to wear. 

Obi-Wan led him out by the hand to the bedroom and sat him on the bed. He’d found the hair brush. Qui-Gon close his eyes and stayed still, allowing the attention he enjoyed so much. He was beyond bliss at that point. He felt contentment in his very spirit. He hadn’t realized that was something he could feel. 

“Qui-Gon, would you allow me to braid you hair? I think it won’t tangle as much when you sleep.” 

“You may,” Qui-Gon said. His voice sounded a little like a croak. It didn’t really bother him, though. He kept himself still until his hair was properly braided and he could be tucked into bed. 

“Sleep well, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said. 

“You too,” Qui-Gon murmured. He didn’t let himself do anything but fall right to sleep.

* * *

Qui-Gon felt like the next few days melted away. The boxes that weren’t Qui-Gon’s were taken away the next day, and Obi-Wan made him a delicious breakfast that morning. Obi-Wan left shortly afterwards, but Qui-Gon didn’t have time or inclination to feel abandoned. Master Yoda came by shortly afterwards to walk him around the Temple. 

Qui-Gon still wasn’t certain how he felt about his new home. It was beautiful and large. There were so many people like him, people who could feel what he could feel in the universe. And he got to see how many children they had. Yoda introduced him to the younglings. They didn’t know he’d been owned. They simply thought of him like any other adult at the Temple: big, safe and there to protect them. One little girl gave him a hug because she could feel that he was sad. 

It wasn’t just sadness. He was grateful to have a new home, but he also was confronted with what he was supposed to have. He should have been raised in the crèche. He should have been a Padawan and a Knight. At his age, he would have been a Master. He would have been educated and respected. 

And he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was pitied more than anything else. And he did hate that feeling. 

He didn’t see Obi-Wan too much. But he understood it was because Obi-Wan was a Master who had many duties because of the war. Obi-Wan still made time to make meals for him. Qui-Gon could cook for himself, but he liked that Obi-Wan seemed anxious to do things for him. That wasn’t something Qui-Gon was used to. 

He had about three days to settle in before his beginning of a routine was shaken up. 

He returned from the library to find a strong feeling coming from his new quarters. He knew the feeling. It was the same feeling from the other bedroom that no one was currently using. 

He put on a somewhat pleasant face and entered the room. Knight Skywalker was standing by the sofa, a scowl on his handsome face. He was young, almost younger than Qui-Gon expected. But he was older too. There was something in his eyes that said he’d seen too much. 

“You must be Anakin,”Qui-Gon said, closing the door behind him. 

“I was told that a slave had been brought to the temple,” Anakin said, eyes on Qui-Gon’s collar. 

“Qui-Gon Jinn. And I was told I was free,” Qui-Gon said. He set the datapads down that he’d brought with him. “Is it a problem for you? That I live here now.” 

Anakin’s frown twisted into something uncomfortable. “It’s not you… I supposed Obi-Wan told you about me?” 

There was something under Anakin’s words, but Qui-Gon didn’t know what it was. Anakin was fishing for something, and Qui-Gon wasn’t certain how to help him find it. 

“That you were his student?” Qui-Gon guessed. From Anakin’s expression that was clearly not the correct answer. 

“Did he tell you?” Anakin asked again, more weight to his words.

“I have no idea what you’re asking me, so I’m going to guess that no one has told me,” Qui-Gon said. “Would you like to sit down?” He indicated the sofa. He walked past the Knight and sat down, allowing Anakin to decide if he wanted to sit or not. 

Anakin let out a breath of air. “I wasn’t born in a republic space. I was born on Tatooine. I was born a slave,” he said. 

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said. “Yes, well I think I would have known what you meant if someone had told me that.” 

“Thought so,” Anakin said. He dropped himself down onto the sofa. Qui-Gon was surprised that he sat next to him and not further away.

“So… how long?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Until I was nine. Obi-Wan found me then. He brought me back here and took me as his student… I heard that he’d brought a slave home, but I just had a hard time believing he’d hurt anybody like that.” Anakin sounded very tired. 

“I understand I was a gift he couldn’t not turn down. The collar is attached to my nervous system. It will take a while to be removed,” Qui-Gon said. 

Anakin nodded slowly and let out a breath. “I have to apologize to Obi-Wan later.”

“You have good reason to be concerned,” Qui-Gon said. “But Obi-Wan has been… more than kind, really.” 

“Oh yeah. He’s really good at taking care of others. Less so himself. I try not to stay away from him too long. He’s more likely to actually eat if he has someone there to eat with him.” 

“Well, he’s been making every meal for the past few days,” Qui-Gon noted. 

“Good,” Anakin said. He slumped back. “Um… you asked me how long it was for me. What about you?” 

“Well I wasn’t born into it,” Qui-Gon said. “The Council believes my parents probably sold me, since the Temple was told I had died of illness.” 

“Bastards,” Anakin hissed. “It was just me and my mom until Obi-Wan rescued me,” Anakin said, leaning further back into the pillows. “My mom sent me on, knowing that it was better for me to be free and with Obi-Wan, even than free and with her if she was still owned… I can’t imagine.”

“I can’t really either. I don’t remember them… Obi-Wan rescued you?” Qui-Gon said. 

“Yeah. And he brought me back here and took me as his student so I could be trained. The Council said I was too old.” There was still underlying pain in Anakin’s words.

Qui-Gon let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in the sofa cushions. “I… suppose I was foolish then.” 

“What for?” 

“I… was hoping maybe I could learn something. I was supposed to be here. I know I’m older than the younglings, but I’ve used the Force all of my life, so I thought maybe they’d let me learn something.” 

“I’ll teach you,” Anakin said. “Anything you want that I know how to teach, I’ll teach you. And I bet Obi-Wan would too if you ask. And Ahsoka will practice with you. Screw the age limit thing. You’re one of us and you’re here, so I’ll teach you.” 

Qui-Gon smiled at Anakin. “I see it now.” 

“See what?” 

“That you were a slave. You want to help. People who’ve been deeply hurt want to help.” He looked up at the ceiling an idea occurring to him. “Who hurt Obi-Wan?” 

“Oh, that was his Master,” Anakin said. “Count Dooku. He’s the guy we’re fighting the war against.” 

“What did he do?” 

“Joined the Sith. The bad guys.” 

“No, Anakin, what did he do to Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon could hear the serious edge to his voice. He saw how Anakin froze for a second and then nodded. 

“Obi-Wan isn’t… mean about it. He doesn’t say that Dooku abused him. But he made Obi-Wan feel like he wasn’t good enough, and then he just left and Obi-Wan had to take his trials of Knighthood way too early. Obi-Wan worked really hard to let me be a kid, and I got from some of the other Knights and Masters that Obi-Wan was really isolated. He didn’t want that to happen to me.” 

“I see,” Qui-Gon said. He didn’t know this Count Dooku, but he knew he hated him. “Does Obi-Wan take care of himself?” 

“You mean like he takes care of everyone else? Not exactly. I mean we worked on it. He used to not eat that much, but I lied and told him that it frightened me because food was so hard to come by on Tatooine, and that when he didn’t eat it made me feel like there wasn’t enough food… I mean I didn’t feel that way, but it got him eating.” 

“He does eat. But he’s been very gentle with me. But I had a hard time thinking he would do the same with himself, or even accept the kind of care he gives.” 

“Yeah, that’s Obi-Wan.” Anakin let out a heavy sigh. “So, not to pry or anything, but why are you living here and not in your own rooms?” 

“The Chief did a gifting ritual, which turns out binds people who are Force Sensitive. Basically both Obi-Wan and I are better when we can be in each other’s general vicinity at least once a day.” 

“Sith Hells,” Anakin whispered, rubbing his jaw. “And you’re okay with this.” 

“Very,” Qui-Gon admitted. “It worries me more that Obi-Wan is only guilty and worried about me. I don’t even know if he’s considered the ramifications to his own life.” 

“Why doesn’t it bother you?” 

“Because I always know where I stand with him. I can feel it. And he gives out kindnesses like they are party favors. He’s a good man. I can tell. I will be a freeman, free even of this collar. But if something were to happen to me, I know he would know and would come find me. I can never be completely cut off from the Force again because of that connection. It’s protection and safety. And I just like Obi-Wan. I wish he wouldn’t be so worried.” 

“Huh? Well, have you told him that?” Anakin asked. 

“Not yet. He’s done a good job trying to give me space, I think. I don’t want him to believe it’s the bond making me say and feel things.” 

“Oh yeah, that sounds like something he’d do,” Anakin said. 

“Now, may I ask you an obtrusive question?” 

“Yeah. Go ahead.” 

“You said you were nine. Had you-”

“Had someone force themselves on me? No. My mother did a good job protecting me. Although Watto, my owners, he figured once I hit puberty that I’d be old enough to be studded. He wasn’t human and he didn’t understand that I would still be very young.” Anakin sat up, looking sad. “You?” 

“I don’t remember it not happening,” Qui-Gon said. 

There was a spike in the Force, angry and violent and so strong it took Qui-Gon’s breath away. Anakin was so powerful and the feelings he put off were so strong.

Qui-Gon reached out a lay a hand on Anakin’s knee. He gave a gentle squeeze. 

“Don’t say it’s okay,” Anakin said. 

“It isn’t,” Qui-Gon said. “It’s not at all. But it was my life. And this is why I wanted to wait to tell Obi-Wan.” 

The anger went away, replaced with confusion. Anakin tilted is head in confusion. 

“Why?” 

“Because I have plans to seduce Obi-Wan, and I don’t want him thinking it’s the bond making me do it, not that I find him adorable and I want very much to give him the same care and tenderness that he’s given me.” 

Anakin let out a surprised laugh. “Do you want my blessing?” 

“I’ll take it. Mostly I want to know what he likes.” 

“I can tell you that,” Anakin said. 

* * *

Obi-Wan wasn’t avoiding Qui-Gon. He really wasn’t. He actually did have a lot to do during the day. There was a war effort and there was all the legal work of trying to get Qui-Gon declared alive and to formally press charges against Qui-Gon’s (deceased) parents. He was a citizen of Coruscant and Obi-Wan burned with anger for what happened to him. There wasn’t anything that Obi-Wan could do about what happened to Anakin because he’d been born on Tatooine as a slave. But Qui-Gon had been born free and sold. Any chance of a trail and Obi-Wan was going to follow it, especially if any of the sentients involved in the actual sale were still alive. And they had taken a child meant to be a Jedi. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was going to put the fear of the Force in people for this. He didn’t care that fear was a Sith tool. Well, he did, but he still burned with rage. Qui-Gon didn’t deserve any of this. 

Obi-Wan returned to his rooms for the lunch hour. He’d been told that the bond wouldn’t be debilitating, that if he could spend time even vaguely near Qui-Gon at least once a day that it would actually help him feel more energized. What the healers and Yoda hadn’t described was the way Obi-Wan felt so light when he was near Qui-Gon. He was constantly torn because he didn’t want Qui-Gon to feel smothered or like Obi-Wan was forcing his presence on him. And yet Obi-Wan felt so good being near him. Surely Qui-Gon felt the same way. 

It was all very exhausting. Obi-Wan wondered if maybe he could talk Qui-Gon into another bath. That had been so wonderful for Obi-Wan. He felt trusted, like Qui-Gon felt safe. But Obi-Wan was also certain it was creepy to offer to do that again. 

Obi-Wan allowed himself a very heavy sigh and entered his rooms. He was surprised to hear laughter. He blinked for a moment before his mind accepted that he was seeing both Qui-Gon and Anakin sitting on the sofa, talking with each other and smiling. 

Obi-Wan smiled a little. Of course Anakin would connect with Qui-Gon. They had more than one thing in common, and Anakin hadn’t been allowed much contact with people who’d been enslaved because other Jedi thought it made Anakin too emotional. That was a mistake, Obi-Wan had always known, but he’d also been overridden. 

“Hey, there you are,” Anakin said. “We were wondering. Qui-Gon said you’ve been making lunch for him?” 

“More than just lunch,” Qui-Gon said. He pushed himself up off the sofa. “And I think it’s my turn to return the favor.” 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said. He felt his heart clench. Qui-Gon didn’t actually need him. 

A soft, warm feeling filled his chest, which confused him until he saw the look Qui-Gon was giving him. 

“I’ve appreciated it. But I would like to make lunch for you,” Qui-Gon said and then headed to the kitchen. 

“How about you take a seat. From what I understand, Master, you’ve been working too hard again,” Anakin said. He grabbed Obi-Wan’s arms and tugged him to the sofa where Obi-Wan went easily.

“Should I even ask who told on me?” Obi-Wan asked. 

Anakin grinned and nodded to the kitchen. “Qui-Gon’s a good man,” he said. “And um… I feel like I should apologize. I heard you had a slave and-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Obi-Wan said quickly. “I understand it’s not something that goes away. The sand under your clothes.” He smiled a little at the scowl Anakin gave him for his metaphor. “And irritating,” he added. 

“Please don’t make jokes, Obi-Wan. I’m being serious. I shouldn’t have thought badly of you like that.” Anakin sounded so upset. Obi-Wan laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t sting a little. But from you, it doesn’t hurt. I know that you have experiences with people hurting you and using you who you thought never would. I really hoped I’d get a chance to tell you first. I’m not hurt or upset because something terrible that happened to you made you afraid that someone you love would hurt you.” 

“It wasn’t about me,” Anakin mumbled. 

“It would hurt you very much if I accepted a slave. You would wonder if everything I taught you about the Jedi and personal morals and even the good of the universe was true if I would break such a fundamental tenant of ethics. And you would have been right to.” Not to mention it would literally be Anakin’s childhood fear incarnate. 

“I’m still sorry,” Anakin said. “You’re a good man. You would never do something like that.” 

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin smiled at him a little weakly and then looked back at the kitchen. 

“You’re better than them,” Anakin said under his breath. Obi-Wan wasn’t even certain if he was supposed to hear it, or if Anakin even knew he said it.

“Actually,” Obi-Wan said, speaking more quietly. “I’m very glad you’re back. I don’t quite know what to do. I was so focused on getting Qui-Gon here and free that I didn’t really plan out how to… well-”

“You thought he’d run away as soon as he got a chance, didn’t you?” 

Obi-Wan’s face pulled an uncomfortable expression. “I actually did. But now he’s stuck with me.” 

“He doesn’t think of it that way,” Anakin said. “Remember how when you bought me that I clung to you because I didn’t know anyone?” 

“You were a child, Anakin.” 

“And he’s been living like that for his entire life. He doesn’t know anyone and that bond tells you both that it’s good to spend time around each other. Just find some time to show him around and introduce him to people.” 

“I don’t want him to feel like he can’t get away from me,” Obi-Wan whispered. 

“Well, maybe ask him if he feels that way, Obi-Wan. Just… please don’t try to protect him from you. You’re the best man, best person I know. You found me a place and raised me and worked so hard to give me a home where I could be safe. Don’t discount yourself so much.” 

Obi-Wan actually felt touched. Anakin squeezed his shoulder again and gave him a soft kind of smile. 

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

“Yeah, anyway, I think Qui-Gon would enjoy seeing the city,” Anakin said a little loudly. Obi-Wan winced and placed a hand over his ear. 

“Really, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked much more quietly. 

“Anakin, are you talking about me?” Qui-Gon called from the kitchen. 

“Only that Obi-Wan should take you out to the city for dinner,” Anakin called back. He was smirking.

“Really?” Qui-Gon asked, sticking his head out of the kitchen. He looked so shocked. 

“There’s a place I know,” Obi-Wan found himself saying. “It’s not fancy, but my friend owns it and the food is excellent.”

“I think I would like that,” Qui-Gon said quietly. 

“Good,” Anakin said with a big smile. “It’s a date then. I’ll make certain Obi-Wan is back in time to pick you up for dinner.”

“I’m not a youngling, Anakin,” Obi-Wan reminded. 

“Yes, but you do it get very absorbed,” Anakin said. He was grinning too brightly. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes.

When Obi-Wan glanced back up he saw that Qui-Gon had disappeared back into the kitchen. Obi-Wan sighed and leaned back. He wanted to be angry at Anakin, but really his heart felt very light. He had a date with Qui-Gon. An actual date. 

Anakin stayed for lunch. Obi-Wan had to admit that the meal Qui-Gon made was better than what Obi-Wan had made him. Qui-Gon brushed off compliments, though, saying it was a poor man’s dish. That didn’t make it less delicious in Obi-Wan’s mind. And after that he got to hear Anakin and Qui-Gon debate various dishes they’d grown up with. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly surprised to know that Qui-Gon had spent a bit of time on Tatooine, though many years before Anakin was born. Still, he knew exactly how to make the kind of food Anakin described with a sad longing as “home food”. And Qui-Gon promised to make it for him, making Anakin smile in that happy but sad way he did when he thought about his mother. 

Qui-Gon seemed to be in a great mood by the time Anakin left, leaving them alone together. Obi-Wan had meant to wash the dishes, but Qui-Gon had just gotten up and taken over the chore himself. That left Obi-Wan seated at the kitchen table with a cup of cooling tea in his hands.

“What time do you want to go to dinner?” Obi-Wan found himself asking. 

“So, you actually mean to take me out to eat?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Yes, today if you would like. We can plan another day.” 

“Oh no, today sounds good,” Qui-Gon said. “Do you go to this place often?” 

“Not as often as I used to,” Obi-Wan said. “With the war and all.” It sounded like a lame excuse, but it was just truth. Still, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t really living up to his name as negotiator. He was supposedly known for having a way with words.

“Well, I’m sure the owner will be happy to see you.” 

“Knowing Dex, probably. And he’ll probably try to stuff you full of food… me too, for that matter. We probably shouldn’t have eaten so much at lunch.” 

Qui-Gon laughed. It was a deep laugh, and it wasn’t the cut off laughs Obi-Wan was used to from Qui-Gon. It was real and wonderful and it sent a shiver through Obi-Wan’s body. It reminded Obi-Wan that one way or another, they were tied together. And it reminded Obi-Wan of Anakin’s assertion that Qui-Gon might actually enjoy spending time with him. 

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for some kind of relationship between them, maybe the friendship Obi-Wan had thought impossible. Obi-Wan wouldn’t allow his mind to think of any type of relationship beyond that. It wasn’t the time or the place to consider that, not by a long time. But… but maybe, maybe one day he would be able to consider it. One day.


End file.
